Guilty Pleasures, BuffyStyle
by becuzitswrong
Summary: Called as a Slayer in the Anita-verse, Buffy has some interesting times ahead...
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Buffy stepped out of her mom's car, gazing at the house ahead of her. Creamy white with pale red trim, it was a half brick, half wood two story house with a pale gray shingle roof sitting on a half acre lot. As nice or nicer than her old house in LA, it cost way less than half the price, something which her mom seemed to marvel at on a regular basis. Gotta love those inflated Cali real estate prices, Buffy thought.

"So when is the moving van going to be here?" Buffy asked, hoping it was soon, since she only had one suitcase of clothes with her. She was looking forward to sleeping in her own bed, rather than spending another night sharing a motel room with her mother.

"I just got off the phone with them. It looks like they'll be here within 30 minutes. While we're waiting, let me show you the house." Joyce smiled as she opened the door ahead of her. She had been so surprised at how much lower home prices were here than California. In the divorce, her part of the community property settlement had more than paid for her new home. She really looked forward to settling in and decorating the house before starting work at the art gallery she had bought a one third share of with the remainder of her community property settlement. Her reverie was interrupted by her daughter's voice.

"As long as I get a room with a bathroom, I'm okay with wherever I end up." Buffy said somberly. She caught the sideways glance her mother sent her and knew her uncharacteristically quiet mood was raising flags. Ever since the death of her Watcher in the big showdown with Lothos, the Master of Los Angeles, Buffy smiles had become a rare occurrence and Buffy laughter even more so. That she had burned down half her old high school while killing the master vampire and his followers, resulting in her expulsion, did not improve her mood at all. Ever since being called as the Slayer, she had struggled against her fate. Slayers here in the United States could no longer slay vampires and other supernatural creatures indiscriminately, rather you had to pick your targets carefully, often waiting until a vampire had a death order placed on its head. At least until you turned eighteen and could apply to be a vampire executioner. Merrick had lobbied hard for her to move back to England with him, where, along with the rest of Europe, vampires could still be killed on sight. Buffy had put paid to that idea. No way was she moving to the land of tweedom, although she had briefly considered how great it would be to shop for shoes in Italy. Not that she trusted Merrick to know the importance of Italian designer shoes. Ultimately she had decided to stay in LA with her parents.

Buffy felt guilty about the divorce of her parents and Merrick's death, wondering if either would have happened if she had just gone along with Merrick's suggestion. Her cover of attending a private school there might have worked, although Buffy was not sure her parents would have been copacetic with her moving completely out of the country. However, as it turned out, if she'd left, things would have been even worse. Lothos had decided to take over LA completely, not being satisfied with merely ruling over the supernatural community. He ultimately would have failed, but Buffy had reduced the death toll substantially by taking out him and his kiss of vampires before they had further clashed with authorities. She remembered the night everything had gone down...

Two months before...

Buffy leaped back as the black-haired vampire lunged, her blazing cross leaving a fiery trail in the air. Slipping a silver-bladed knife from her her wrist sheath, she waited, holding it hidden behind her arm. She placed the vampire's age at around five hundred years or so, based upon the amount of power he projected. Meeting the cruel eyes of the ancient vampire squarely, she felt satisfaction at the shock reflected there at her immunity. "Sorry, but there will be no Buffy hypno thingy today," she said sarcastically. The vampire frowned at her. With blinding speed, he lunged a second time, but again Buffy danced aside with seemingly effortless grace. This time though she left the knife sitting squarely in the center of his back, piercing his heart. Swaying, he slowly turned to face her again, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Mmmm, she must have nicked a lung as well. Buffy took the other blade she carried and stabbed him beneath the chin, driving it up into his brain, finishing him. With a grim smile, she cut off his head and then cut out his heart. Head and heart. The only way to be sure with an older vampire. Another one bites the dust, she thought bemusedly. Another assassin that is.

The Master of LA had repeatedly tried to kill her as soon as he realized a Slayer had been called in his city. This was just the latest in a series of attempted assassinations. Assassins ranged from vampires to various weres to some kind of weird snaky woman. With the vampires, Buffy had taken their heads and hearts. With the weres, Buffy had cut out just their hearts. With the weird snaky woman, she had taken the head, heart, then burned the corpse, still not sure if it was really dead after its boasts of immortality. In a hissy accent, go figure. Ultimately, she hadn't seen it again, so figured it was at least discouraged.

She moved into the restroom to wash off the blood in the sink. Buffy was attending the school dance, despite being a social pariah, primarily because of threats she had heard about second-hand from a previous assassin, a weretiger. As the weretiger lay dying, poisoned by the silver blade piercing his liver, he had gasped out Lothos's plan to draw her out by creating a mass slaughter at her school. Buffy had twisted the blade whenever he had paused too long between words. Finally, though, she had all of the details. The Master of LA felt that Buffy would have no choice but to come to him. Buffy had snorted at the example of weird vampiry logic. Still, she had decided that she would rather not have to attend the funerals of most of the people she knew. Figuring that the dance in two days would be Lothos' perfect chance to kill the greatest number of students since it took place during a time when he was actually awake, she had reluctantly planned to attend. Her arrival earlier had been greeted by stares and whispers, clearly audible to her Slayer hearing. Lothos was so going to pay for ruining her social life.

Merrick was somewhere here, intermixed with the crowd, ready to back her up. Buffy had seen him, just a glimpse really, shortly after she'd arrived. She had also noticed the vampire assassin then as well. Luring it into the hallways, away from the gym, she was ready for it when it attacked. The bloody corpse sitting outside the bathroom was the result. Finished cleaning up, she headed back to the dance.

As she arrived, she immediately felt the presence of more vampires, lots more vampires. Looking around, she spotted several spread out among the dancing teens, using their powers to hide their presence from them. Her cross again blazed into life, blazing like a small star, lighting the dim room. Heads turned as vampiric powers weakened. As she moved forward, she nearly walked straight into Lothos, who appeared to be waiting for her. Abruptly the veil hiding the vampires from the humans was lifted. Locking her eyes on Lothos, she took a step back as his power exploded outwards. Screams of panic erupted from the teens as the fear and dread rolled in waves from him. While vampiric powers for the most part did not affect her, this type of attack even she could feel. Gritting her teeth as adrenaline exploded through her system, the Slayer within her reacting, she spun, stabbing the vampire creeping up behind her through the heart as it attempted to punch her in the back. Ignoring the stunned look in its eyes, she danced with the other vampires encircling her, weaving in and out of their reach, twin silver streaks in her hands creating patterns of scarlet upon the floor. Lothos watched from the sidelines, focused on her, mostly ignoring the students who ran here and there. He did kill one dark-haired girl who ran right by him, snatching her by her hair and snapping her neck instantly. He smiled in satisfaction as the corpse crumpled at his feet.

Buffy noticed the act, but was too busy fighting the other vampires to react. Feeling sudden heat at her back, she dove sideways, avoiding the surge of heat from the vampire standing there. The blast of fire struck bleachers at the gym's edge, causing them to burst into flame. Buffy threw one of her knives, impaling the firebug through the forehead, dropping it instantly. It was worth sacrificing a weapon to remove that threat. "So much for lighting my fire," she snarked. The Doors really said it best, she thought. Buffy used her remaining weapon to remove the grasping hand of another vampire, leaving a bloody stump. She ripped off her cross and swinging the chain viciously, drove into straight into the right eye of the vampire, who screamed in agony, flesh bubbling and sizzling. "Hey, we all have a cross to bear," she quipped before frowning. Nope, definitely not her best material. Maybe she should have teased him about his stumpiness?

A fist struck her in the back of the head sending her flying. Landing face-first on the floor, her vision swam as her brain rebounded within the jelly suspension inside her skull. Fighting against the concusion, she was glad to be the Slayer. An ordinary person would have been decapitated by the force behind the blow. Rolling onto her back, she saw Lothos approach. It figured he would have finally decided to join the fight, after having lost so many vampires. What was Merrick doing? She tried to scream a warning as her Watcher swung an axe towards Lothos head. Almost leisurely, the vampire turned, dealing with the attack. Merrick had the axe ripped from his hands and his neck snapped, before being nonchalantly tossed aside.

Buffy could feel the heat of the flames from where she lay. The entire room appeared to be well onto its way to becoming ash. Tears, aching to be released, blinded her momentarily. Merrick was dead, dying in a futile effort to protect her. She blinked fiercely. Putting aside her grief, she forced herself to her feet, grimly meeting Lothos' gaze. She felt his power like the wings of a butterfly beating against her mind as the Slayer within, now fully roused by the blood and battle, protected her from his mental games. Finally she fully unleashed her own power, calling upon the bottomless wellspring of rage that was the Slayer. Black depths beckoned and she dove deeply within. A shudder went through Lothos as trickles of blood seeped from his nose and bloody tears ran down his cheeks. He moved towards her again, robbed of his customary grace as the power of the Slayer tore at his very being. The other vampires around them dropped to their knees, vomiting blood and crying in pain, unable to move, lacking the buffer of Lothos' age and power.

Moving forward, Buffy hammered her fist into his face, splitting open his cheek, while slipping most of the force of a return blow. Shaking her head, her stomach roiled as the motion aggravated her head injury. Again rage protected her from feeling the full effects of her injury and resulting nausea. With a feral smile, she darted beneath Lothos' grasping hand and shattered his right knee with a knife blow from her left hand. Spotting one of her knives buried in the corpse of the firebug vampire, she raced for it. Buffy had to end this now, or risk joining Lothos in his fiery tomb. Returning, she stabbed at the master vampire, but slipped on something on the floor, blood or some other foul liquid. Losing her grip on the the knife, she landed on her back, striking her head, stunning her. Lothos dropped astride her, hands gripping her neck, choking the life from her. As her vision darkened, Buffy felt the enticement of the grave beckon, velvet blackness edging her vision, before being pulled from its dark enchantment by another, even more intense, burst of rage. She looked upon a world painted gorgeous, glorious shades of red, crimsons and vermilions, the color of blood and battle, of fire and flame, of rage and ruin. This must be what madness is like, she thought giddily, the ending of all things. A strange smile twisted the muscles of her face like a rictus, sending vague tremors of alarm through Lothos. Something was wrong. Through the red haze, Buffy watched herself bring her arms down with shattering force, pulverizing the bones in the arms of the master vampire holding her down. As the vampire arched his back, crying out his pain, Buffy drove the stiffened fingers of her right hand upward, first tearing through the material of his shirt, then through the soft tissue beneath the breastbone, finally deep into the chest cavity. Gripping Lothos' heart almost lovingly, she cradled it gently in her hand, before tearing it from his chest, blood spraying in an arc from the grisly wound, drenching her in its crimson spray.

As he toppled off her, Buffy sat up, tossing aside the bloody organ. She shook her head, the overt presence of the Slayer fading more into the background. She spat out blood, having caught a bit in her mouth, grimacing at the taste. Reaching over, Buffy grabbed Lothos' head and slowly twisted it until bones splintered and broke, until flesh ripped and tore, until with a final wet tearing sound, like sodden silk, his head parted from his body. Head and heart. As it had always been. She lifted Lothos' head and looked intently into his eyes. Half-closed, their dull gaze disclosed no remaining spark. "See what happens, when you lose your head?" Buffy taunted, frowning, still not satisfied with her material. She really needed to sit down and brainstorm some new quips. Sighing, Buffy tossed aside the head and surveyed the room. The flames which had spread throughout the room, made it difficult to see through the resulting smoke. The vampires around her were either dead or dying, a result of the death of their sourdre de sang. Buffy spotted her Watcher's corpse through the smoke and flames . She gave her Watcher a small, sad smile and said, "Goodbye, Merrick, I'll never forgot you," before staggering forward, seeking escape. Choking on smoke, blinded by heat and flame, she finally spotted a way through to the exit. As she fled the blazing flames, moving out into the dark night, cool air soothed her aching head and lungs. Wild-eyed students and teachers stared at her as she was outlined by the flames, watching her like a demon escaped from the pits of Hell. As Buffy looked back, she thought that the shit had really hit the fan...

The present...

Her musings were interrupted by Joyce opening the door ahead of them. Buffy followed her mother into the house. They walked into a large rectangular room about about fifteen feet by a little over twenty. Cream-colored carpet covered the floors and the stairs in the left back corner of the room leading up to the second floor. The walls were an antique white with paler ceilings and trim. Walking forward, Buffy entered what must be the dining room, with gorgeous cherry floors and the same paint scheme as the living room. She saw her mom to her right, already in the kitchen, which was divided from the dining room by a four foot high counter topped with pale golden-streaked marble. Looking over the counter, Buffy noticed the kitchen counters were the same color marble.

"Well, what do you think?" Joyce said enthusiastically.

"Well.. it's very nice," Buffy said with a small smile. As her mom looked at her expectantly, she added, "Okay, I really like it. It's very pretty. And nothing says class like marble counter tops. And wood. Wood floors that is, not wood wood." Realizing she was starting to babble, Buffy stopped talking. She smiled at the happy look in her mom's eyes. It was nice to see her happy again. Since the divorce she had been a little glum. Finding out that Buffy was expelled from the entire Greater Los Angeles School District had probably not helped her spirits.

"I like the countertops too. But the wood floors, here and in the dining room, as well as the entire upstairs, are what really sold me. They are just so gorgeous, the way the light glows off them." Joyce warmed to her subject. "And did I tell you what a deal this place was?"

"Only like a gazillion times, but if you want to tell me again, I'm game," Buffy teased, smiling.

"No no, that's okay. Sorry, I'm just so excited," Joyce explained. Noticing Buffy looking past her, she asked, "What's up?"

"What's through that door over there?" Buffy asked curiously, pointing at a door in the right back corner of the kitchen.

"That's another nice sized room leading into the laundry room and then the garage. I was thinking about making it a den or maybe a library."

"Err... library library? With books?" Buffy thought how best to foil this plot. "How about putting the TV back there with some nice stuffed couches for us to veg out on during movie night? Also if we need ice creamy goodness, the kitchen is right here, minimal walking." Buffy smiled again. She was really getting into organizing the house. It was a nice, normal activity without Slayery overtones.

Joyce tilted her head, considering. "That would work fine. Why don't you take a quick look upstairs? I think you're going to like it."

Buffy stepped out of the room, calling over her shoulder, "As long as I get my own bathroom for those mornings when I have to kill the cat that likes to perch on my head, then I'm cool."

Buffy jogged up the stairs. Upon reaching the top, she looked down the hallway running along the back of the house. One long hallway, three doors. "Well Monty, let's see what's behind door number one," Buffy mused out aloud. She stepped into the first door to her right, which opened into a large sunny room, with open doors to both a large walk in closet and bathroom at the back. Looking over the room, Buffy estimated it to be approximately eighteen feet by thirteen feet, which adding in the attached bathroom, probably made it the master bedroom, which her mom had already called dibs on. There were windows along the right wall, perfect for getting in and out unseen from a late night patrol. "Darn perfect master bedroom," she grumbled. Moving back, she checked the next room. The next bedroom was practically identical to the first all the way up to having its own bathroom. Which meant that the other bedroom wasn't the master. Buffy grinned. She definitely had her own bathroomy goodness. And a clean Buffy was a happy Buffy. Couple that with with the Slayer entrance and exit and you had absolute perfection. She checked the last room just to make sure. Yep, it was the master bedroom. She looked longingly at the large garden tub. "Mmmm, long, hot soaks with vanilla bath salts," she moaned, then resolutely turned away.

Buffy hurried back down to the ground floor, finding her mom standing in the living room. "Okay, this place rocks. Can you say three bathrooms, no sharing? Btw, I want the room at the top of the stairs."

Joyce smiled, having already figured out which room Buffy would want. She wouldn't want to be right next to Joyce since that would negatively affect her privacy. "That's fine. Oh, look, there's the moving van. I'm so looking forward to getting unpacked."

Eight hours later...

"Oooohhh, I'm beat," Joyce moaned, plopping down on a couch in the living room. She had been going nonstop for hours now, first running around, directing the movers in exactly where to put everything, then unpacking, first her room then the kitchen. She had gotten halfway through the living room when she conked out.

"Here mom." Thankfully, Joyce took the ice cold diet coke from her daughter, sipping at the fizzy beverage. She watched Buffy zip back out of the room, heading back to the den to finish unpacking the last boxes. As hard as Joyce had worked, Buffy seemed to get twice as much done. Joyce had come out of her bedroom to find both Buffy's room and the new guest bedroom both set up and ready to go, even to the large rack of shoes, sorted by color and type, sitting in Buffy's closet. Hearing rustling sounds downstairs, she found Buffy taking dishes out of the packing boxes and placing them into the large armoire in the dining room. Sometimes, Joyce wished she could figure out a way to bottle Buffy's energy. Hearing a crash from the next room, followed by a loud "Ooops!", she smilingly reconsidered. The world was probably not quite ready for Buffyfication. Getting up, she went to see what had happened.

Stopping at the door of the den, she surveyed the scene. Well, she hadn't really liked that lamp anyway. Stepping forward, she squatted next to Buffy, helping her pick up the pieces. Meeting her daughter's eyes over the fragments, she smiled reassuringly at the stricken expression on Buffy's face.

"Sorry, mom. I was moving the lamp and somehow it just slipped right out of my hand. I hope it wasn't expensive?" Buffy wondered aloud.

"No, not expensive, just a gift from your grandmother." At that, Buffy's eyes bugged out. Laughing, Joyce continued, "I never really got along with Hank's mom and I never really liked that lamp, which is why it was in the den in the first place." Relieved, Buffy joined her in laughter. "If you break anything else, I wouldn't miss the big blue floor vase. Your father and I flipped for it and unfortunately, I lost."

Grinning, Buffy said, "Got it. Slay the blue vase, while leaving everything else alone." She sobered as she caught the frown on her mother's face. Uh oh. Need to be all avoidy with the word "Slay", Buffy told herself, remembering the morning after battling the Master of LA, when Hank had bundled her into his car and taken her to the Hogkins Institute, a sanitarium. Like for crazy people The trip had been his response to the screaming match he and Buffy had gotten into over what happened the night before. Unfortunately, Buffy had gotten so angry, she had let slip about being the Slayer. Hank had not reacted well to say the least. It had taken two weeks for Joyce to get her out and had been the straw that broke the camel's back as far as her marriage was concerned. She had filed for divorce the next day. The stay there had been hell on earth for Buffy. She had felt betrayed by the man who had always called her "my little princess". Even now, remembering the feelings of helplessness and isolation, made her eyes well with tears. Blinking rapidly to keep them at bay, she took the broken pieces of lamp and carried them back into the kitchen, disposing of them in the trash.

Joyce followed her into the room. "Buffy, its okay. Hank overreacted to what happened. I know the fire wasn't your fault. It just wasn't smart to make up stories to excuse yourself."

Buffy looked away. Sometimes she wished she could tell her mom about the Slaying. It was an old hurt for her, seeing the looks of disappointment, doubt, and anger that both Joyce and Hank had worn over this past year as Buffy had gone from being a popular cheerleader to a sometimes sullen social outcast. Late nights, cuts and bruises, and torn and stained clothing, had all been souvenirs of the battles she fought against Lothos as the mad master vampire attempted take over LA. While Buffy had been amazed at the blind eye her parents had turned to her activities, even they had not been completely oblivious. They had seen just enough to be upset with her behavior, without considering the underlying causes of it. The more disappointed they had become, the more Buffy had acted out, seemingly to reinforce their opinions. It had come to a head with Buffy's incarceration. Upon her release, she had talked at length with her mom, connecting with her in a way she never had before. It had been odd seeing Joyce as a real person, separate from being her mom. She had not seen her father since that morning.

Leaving grim thoughts behind, Buffy changed the subject. "What are we doing for dinner? There's nothing edible in the house, so unless you want to eat pictures of food out of Good Housekeeping, we need to order out."

Allowing Buffy space, Joyce followed her lead. "How about Chinese? I think I have a menu around here somewhere for a place that delivers."

"Ooohh, that would be great. Mooshy pork and kungy chicken would really hit the spot. And eggrolly goodness. Yum."

Smiling at Buffy's butchering of the names, Joyce went to get her phone and place an order. She really thought St. Louis was going to be good for both of them...


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Two days later...

Buffy woke slowly, or at least as slowly as she was able to since being called as the Slayer. Which meant when she woke, she became instantly aware of her surroundings. The ticking of the clock on her bedside table. The low hum of the refrigerator downstairs. The faint traffic noise from the cars out on the street. And the persistent sound of knocking. Sheesh. Couldn't she spend one day in bed just lazing around? School didn't start for nearly two weeks. Two days ago it was get up early and move in. Yesterday it was get up early and go to church, which she never did. It wasn't that Buffy didn't believe in God, 'cause hello, blazing crosses here, but she did not necessarily believe in the whole Christian mythos thingy. Or the Bible. Especially the Bible. Obey your husband my ass, she thought. Her thoughts were interrupted by another round of knocking. Hurriedly she jumped out of bed, threw on robe over her yummy sushi pj's and ran downstairs.

Peeking through the peephole, she saw one person out front. Screw it. Buffy threw open the door. On her doorstep stood an older man, mid 40's, with short, light brown hair going gray at the temple. He had kind eyes behind wire-framed glasses. He wore tweed slacks, loafers, a cream colored shirt under a light blue sweater-vest with a tweed jacket over the whole thing. Uh oh, Buffy suspicioned the arrival of a Watcher. That was never good. She waited for him to speak.

"Miss Summers? I am Rupert Giles. May I come in and speak to you about a matter of some urgency?" Rupert Giles looked at the young girl at the door. Dark blond hair, around shoulder length, framing a lovely face. Hazel eyes, reflective of colors and mood, under arching, darker brows. Smooth, golden skin without a hint of freckles. Cupid bow mouth, currently pouting, with a delicate nose. In stature she was tiny and dainty. Certainly not his image of a Slayer. And were those fish on the pajamas just peeking out from underneath the robe she wore? Good grief. At least she looked relatively normal, too normal, nothing like the odd girl described in Merrick's Watcher Diaries.

"Err... What's the what?" Buffy stammered out. Damn, definitely a Watcher with the whole diffident British accent thingy. How she could delay this? Hmmm. Slam the door in his face? Nah, he would probably get all huffy and British if she did that. And go back to banging. Deny being Buffy Summers? Maybe he had asked if she was herself, but on second thought, he appeared to recognized her. Probably had a picture. Hopefully taken from her good side. Claim amnesia... mmm... nah, probably wouldn't buy it. Maybe if she was just silent long enough, he would just go away. Yep, let's try that, Buffy thought.

"What's the wh.. Sorry, I don't understand what you are saying. May I come in please?" Rupert became more insistent. He was not going to discuss this with her on her doorstep of all places.

"Sheesh, Giles, hold your horses, already. Err.. its open." Buffy stepped back away from the door. A non-invite invite was the best he was getting. Maybe it would confuse him. Shoot, he was coming in.

"Excellent, you did not invite me in. Even though the sun's up, you can never be too careful." Rupert smiled, emphasizing lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes. Okay kinda cute, in an older, nerdy, tweedy Watchery kinda of way. Getting a firm grip on her thoughts, Buffy buried that thought, twelve feet under then poured about three feet of concrete stuff on it. Definitely buried. Ooops, what did she miss?

" and we need to discuss a patrol schedule as well. I also need to bring you up to speed on the history and politics of the city, especially the preternatural side. And.."

"Wait, what did you just say?"

"Did you hear anything I just said?" Rupert felt a bit of frost creep into his tone, but really? Had she just ignored his entire introduction speech? And he had spent some time polishing it to make sure he struck just the right tone. He felt that was infinitely better than plopping some book titled Vampyr in front of her. Although from the blank look on her face, that might have worked better. Sighing, he took off his glasses and polished them on his sweater. After a second he realized he was not getting an answer. Maybe she thought it was a rhetorical question. He began again.

"Miss Summers, I am Rupert Giles, your Watcher. I have been sent over from England by the Watcher's Council. I arrived today and thought we should get acquainted before I unpacked. Was that clear?" Rupert's tone while not quite descending to condescension still contained a slight patronizing edge. An edge that Buffy picked up on immediately. And replied to with some frost of her own.

"I understood you just fine. Btw, thanks for waking me at 8:30 in the morning on a day I actually get to sleep in. Did it ever occur to you that some people. People who are out late at night slaying vampires and stuff. Those people might just need to sleep in. Until at least 11:00. So why don't you go and come back in two hours and bring me a mochachino and then we can talk about the whole slayer thingy and how I am retired from slaying since last night. Okay?" Buffy was aware she was rambling, but she DID crave mochachinowy goodness and England there looked like he might be a lot more palatable on serious cafeination.

"Miss Summers.."

"Buffy."

"Pardon?"

"My name is Buffy. Bbuuufffyyy. Now you say it."

Rupert eyed the girl narrowly, no longer wondering why Merrick wrote the things he did about her now. Butchering the English language was just one of the things he had written about Miss Summers. Buffy. He would need to work on that. Such familiarity went against his nature, but Miss S.. Buffy did not appear to be the type of person who believed in formality. His thoughts were interrupted as Buffy went on.

"And lighten up. Maybe its the tweed. With the hot, wearing that much tweed can't be good for a person. Don't you have any normal clothes, like some Tommy Hilfinger or maybe Bill Blass?" Buffy was getting on a roll. Dispensing fashion advice was one of her favorite things. Especially to the truly fashion challenged. Which seemed to be the entire British nation. Who would have thought that the same country that produced Princess Di could also produce Merrick and Giles? Some mysteries weren't really meant to be understood, Buffy thought. Better just to ignore them.

"I will endeavor to 'lighten up' as you say. However, the things you are trying to delay me saying will have to discussed at some time. It would be better to just bear down and deal with it now, rather than later." Rupert crooked an eyebrow at Buffy, endeavoring to bring her around by sheer patience and goodwill. At her grudging nod, he continued, "We can put off discussing the training and patrol schedules until tomorrow, but I'm afraid we must discuss the political situation immediately. I was briefed on St. Louis before I left England and the situation here is dire. There have been several vampiric murders here recently. At least 7, the majority of which have not been reported to the police. And.." He stopped at Buffy's raised hand. Gesturing for her to speak, he sent a silent prayer for patience.

"Vampiric murders? There hasn't been anything in the paper or on the news about a string of murders by a vampire. Are you sure about this?" Buffy was seriously doubting Giles' info. That many murders could not have been covered up. And it would have been the top story in the national news, let alone the local.

"You misunderstand, Buffy. By vampiric murders, I mean murders of vampires. By persons unknown. Or perhaps vampires unknown. We're not sure. But it is causing terrific strain on the local power structure. The Master of the city is getting seriously angry. As you know, an angry Master is even more irrational than usual. So we must do whatever we can to reduce the stress on the local front. The Master of St.Louis is Nickolaos, an ancient vampire, turned when she was little more than a child. She is probably at least a 1000 years old, althought we're not completely sure of her origins. She is very powerful though, of that we are completely sure. And keeping powerful master vampires calm is a good thing, especially when she finds out the Slayer is operating out of her city. I would prefer to not have another war such as took place in Los Angeles. Do you understand?" Rupert kept his tone calm and factual, avoiding even the slightest hint of condescension. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

Buffy gave him a frosty look. "I have to SAVE vampires now? Sheesh, my title is Vampire SLAYER, not Vampire Savior. How about I just kill a few more vampires and then when the Master goes all Ted Bundy, I slay her, too? Sounds like a plan to me." She smiled hopefully at her Watcher, who shook his head decisively no.

"And how many innocents will be killed by the fall out? How many lives are you willing to sacrifice as collateral damage? And will you do the same next time when another Master claims the city?" He tried to reason with her, hoping she would take his lead. He suppressed a sigh as her face fell, a pout forming as if by magic, lower lip trembling and eyes big and soft. He resisted it with steely resolve. And by not looking her in the eye. At least his time around vampires had given him some practice in resisting his Slayer's pouts, even if it was the coward's way out.

With a sigh, Buffy stopped pouting. She really couldn't argue the point. She didn't want anyone to die. It was just saving vampires went so against the grain with her that it was like the grain was sandpaper. Or something equally rough. It was bad enough she couldn't just slay them all. Ever since she had moved to St. Louis, she could feel their presence, especially at night. Besides better to save her pout for a time when she really needed to get her way, like a date or maybe a trip to the mall to replace a ruined outfit. "Okay, I'm on board. Let's find the other 'bad' vampire slayer and make jolly ole St. Nick jolly again. So where do we start?"

Her Watcher looked appalled. "Please do not refer to Nickolaos as 'St. Nick', Buffy. Master vampires are extraordinarily sensitive to the whole status thing. They follow protocol to a fault. Nickolaos would see being called 'St. Nick' as a deadly insult and it would likely cause a fight to the death. Do not roll your eyes at me, young lady. Now, as to where to start. There is a bar in town called Dead Dave's, owned by a vampire who used to be a police detective. It is a good source for information on the local scene. Also, there is woman who lives here in St. Louis, Anita Blake, who works with the police. She might be a good person to cultivate, but has the reputation of being 'difficult'. So I would check the bar first, then if that doesn't work, I would make an appointment to see Miss Blake at Animators, Inc."

"Umm, you know I'm only 16 right? I mean I'm as willing as the next teenage to sneak into a bar, but the chances of the police not being called on a one to ten scale are like negative two."

"That is not an issue. I have ID's with me that show you to be 22 years old. Perfectly legal to be in a bar." At the gleam in Buffy's eye, he continued quickly, "ID's good only for going into bars, not for drinking. Is that clear?" Rupert was not convince by Buffy's innocent look and waited for her promise.

"Oh, fine, whatever. No boozing it up. Gotcha. Now what's the dealio with Anita Bryan? She draw cartoons or something?" Buffy was puzzled by what cartoons had to do with police work. Maybe she drew cartoon vampires? Kind of a Dr. Seus for the undead. At least she had actually heard good things about the police here in St. Louis. They had some kind of special squad for the supernatural. Ribbet or Ripit or something. Maybe Anita drew cartoon vampire frogs?

"Yes, I trust that no drinking will go on. As to Miss Anita BLAKE, an animator raises the dead, rather than drawing Bugs Bunny. She has the reputation of being very powerful, able to raise several zombies in one night. She also is a licensed Vampire Executioner with 14 sanctioned kills. Something which we will work on for you as well. Perhaps take a class?" Rupert was pleased at how the conversation was progressing after a bit of a rocky start. Perhaps he and Miss Summers would make an excellent team after all.

Buffy spun a finger in the air, a bored expression on her face. "Whee, 14 kills. Remind me to be thrilled sometime when I haven't killed that many vampires in ONE night. Why can't I have one of those Vampire Executing thingies now instead of taking some kind of class?"

Or perhaps not. Rupert sighed again. "While the regular ID I gave you will get you by an ordinary police check, even the Council would have problems providing you with an ID that would pass the kind of investigation by both the police and the press that occurs during an execution. And while they might be able to do it by pulling in favors, they would rather spend those favors on more important things. And please do not belittle Miss Blake's accomplishments. 14 kills by an ordinary person is something to marvel at. I am only aware of a handful of people alive who have that many. And Miss Blake is only in her mid 20's. She has paid the price for those deaths and bears the scars to show it. Not everyone can walk away from a fight and have their wounds heal overnight without a trace."

Buffy looked away, slightly ashamed of herself. 14 kills by someone without slayer abilities WAS something to be proud of. This Anita Bria.. err Blake had probably saved a lot of lives by executing all of those vampires. Okay, no more cranky Buffy. Which made her think of something else. "So, Giles, now that I have heard the whole attaboy speech, how about a mochachino? And a cookie?"

At least Rupert knew he wasn't going to be bored...


	3. Chapter 3

Yummy! Buffy took another bite of her huge half pound burger dripping with grease, cheese, and sauteed onions. Was it possible to have an orgasm from food? Like a foodgasm? Ultimately she didn't care as she put down her burger just long enough to take a long pull from her Diet Coke, followed by devouring several well-salted fries. Can you say real potatoes? Everything in this place was damn good and she blessed Giles for sending her here. Who knew that when Giles had said to check out Dead Dave's, that Buffy would be able to fill up with delicious food? And on Giles's dime, no less.

When she had first walked in, the bartender, Luthor, had given her a disillusioned look and asked for her ID. Buffy had promptly whipped out her new Council-created, Missouri State Driver's License. Luthor had given it a thorough perusal, then tossed it back to her, asking what she'd like. Buffy had asked for a Diet Coke and had proceeded to make small talk.

"I'm new in town. Anything interesting to do around here?" Buffy had asked innocently.

Apparently too innocently, as Luthor had responded, "You are standing in a bar owned by a vampire, in the middle of the infamous Blood District, and you ask if there's anything to do around here? Girl, you need to work on your routine before coming in and trying to pull the wool over my eyes. And don't think I bought the ID. Just cause it looks real, don't make it real. I have a bit of experience with illusion, working here. Got it?"

"My name is Buffy, not girl. And I got it. So since I so suck at the whole questioning thing, I'll just come right out and ask. What do you know about a bunch of vamps getting Dahmered around town? I'm looking into it for an article in my school paper." Buffy had figured that she didn't have to say what kind of school. Hopefully, Luthor would think it was a college paper.

"If I knew anything, I wouldn't talk to a reporter. Especially an underage one. I've already had a couple from the local paper here. I didn't talk to them, and I'm not going to talk to you. Got it?" Luthor hadn't appeared upset, stating it matter-of-factly. All the while, he had kept a lit cigarette in his mouth.

"Geeze, repeat much? By the way, how do you manage to talk so well while keeping a cigarette in your mouth? Not that I smoke, or really like smoking, but it looks like a cool talent." Buffy had thought out another approach for talking to Luthor. She had already ruled out violence, since, hello, witnesses. She had known what to do.

"Please, Luthor, tell me something about the vampires? If I don't bring something back to my editor, he's going to get all cranky. And talk mean to me. Pretty please with sugar on top?" Buffy had added her trademark pout, with eyes appropriately large, pupils dilated, and lower lip trembling for effect. No boy had ever resisted it. Unfortunately, Luthor wasn't a boy.

"Daaaammmnnn, girl, you should teach seminars on how to get what you want. Course most of the attendees would be boys wanting to hit on you. Why don't you just give it a rest? And order another drink, " he'd said, gesturing at her now empty glass. He'd continued, "Or order one of our famous burgers. Best in town. What'd ya say?"

Buffy's stomach had rumbled at that point, reminding her she hadn't eaten since brunch, four hours before. "So what kind of burgers do you have."

"Double-meat, double-cheese, sauteed onions, on a grilled, buttered bun with home fries."

Buffy's mouth had watered. "Okay, I'll take two."

Luthor's eyes had shone with amusement. "Two burgers?"

"Two of everything. Two burgers, two orders of fries. Yum. Oh, and a refill of my Diet Coke, please." Buffy had moved away from the bar and taken a seat at a booth, hoping that maybe she could at least overhear some interesting conversation while waiting for her food.

Taking one last bite to finish her first burger, Buffy eyed the second burger and contemplated ordering a third. Since becoming the Slayer, she'd developed an appetite that boggled the mind. Where before, she probably ate around a thousand calories a day, now she tended to eat about five to six times that much. Lucky for her, Joyce was a bit oblivious on that front, and never questioned why there weren't any leftovers, which tended to disappear during one of Buffy's late night forays into the icebox after a patrol. Or how they went through so many jars of peanut butter and jelly. She was usually hungry and umm... well hungry, after patrolling and probably consumed a third to a half of her entire day's intake then. She had hit up Giles for a food allowance, after first asking for a clothes allowance, for which he had not been particularly receptive. When she mentioned her mom finding out about her being the Slayer, based upon her starving and going to school naked, he had relented. If she was careful, she would be able to get that new, stylish leather jacket soon, as well as some new Jimmy Choo boots to go with it. Idly, she looked down, and only then, realized she'd eaten all of her fries. Well, Mr. Burger, its just you and me now, she thought, lifting it and taking a huge bite from it. She was almost distracted from the food a moment later when a small, dark-haired woman came in and greeted Luthor familiarly. Ahh, Buffy thought, a clue. She listened intently.

Anita noticed the blonde girl sitting at a booth across from the bar, but merely thought to herself, too young, before focusing on the matter at hand.

"Anita, what'll it be?" Luthor's deep gravelly voice filled the space

"The usual." Buffy watched as Luthor poured the woman a glass of what looked like orange juice. Taking a slow sniff, she confirmed it. Yep, oj. Gotta love that slayer sense of smell. Except in the sewers. Wonder why she's in a bar if she's not drinking?

The woman, Anita, said, "I need some info."

"Figured that. Watcha need?"

"I need some information on a man named Philip, dances at Guilty Pleasures."

Buffy listened as Luthor described the man as a vampire junkie. Yuck. When he said that a vampire named Valentine, some kind of vampiric pedophile, had raped him as a kid, Buffy felt a white-hot knot of rage blossom inside her. Goddamn, filthy vamps. Buffy briefly fantasized about taking Valentine and shoving a white-hot poker up HIS ass. Focus, Buffy. Listen now, kill later. Luthor asked Anita about meeting the Master of the City last night. Sweet! Actual confirmation that Buffy was hearing something relevant. When Anita's phone rang and she explained to a friend named Ronnie about going to a freak party with the previously mentioned Philip, Buffy smiled. Bingo. Now all she had to do was swing by Guilty Pleasures and tail Anita and her boy toy to the freak party. Maybe afterwards she could look up Valentine. Things were definitely looking up. And getting all this info while eating one, okay, actually two, of the best burgers, she'd ever eaten. Taking another bite, Buffy made little happy murmurs as she slowly chewed and swallowed it.

"Excuse me?"

Looking up, Buffy saw the woman, Anita, looming over her with a frown on her face.

"Yes?" Buffy asked disinterestedly, before taking a huge bite of her burger, finishing it.

"Aren't you a little young to be in here?" Anita knew she was frowning as she looked down at the blonde teenager in front of her, but she really hated to see someone so young in a place like this. The girl couldn't have been more than sixteen, slender and delicate, wearing a soft, fuzzy blue sleeveless sweater and an extremely short skirt. Brown, leather, knee-high boots completed her ensemble. Anita found her outfit a bit too revealing, but it was probably very popular with teenage boys. What was Luthor thinking letting her in here? Sending him a disillusioned look over her shoulder, she waited for an answer. And waited. And waited some more. Finally, when she was about to explode, the girl finished chewing, and replied.

"Nope."

Anita counted slowly to ten. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven... After seven she gave up, turned her head, and shouted, "Luthor! Why are you serving someone under twenty-one?"

Luthor looked up from behind the bar, his dark face impassive as usual. "Anita, her I.D. says she's twenty-two."

"Luthor, may I get another Diet Coke, please?" Buffy requested, smiling. She was enjoying tweaking Anita. The woman's attitude definitely rubbed her wrong. Nice hair, but bitchy much?

"Sure thing, girl."

"Look, miss..."

"Buffy."

"Excuse me?" Anita was puzzled. 'Buffy' was a very esoteric statement.

"My name is Buffy." The girl smiled sweetly before taking a deep pull of her newly refilled soda. Closing her eyes in bliss, she swallowed.

"Okay, 'Buffy'," and who went by 'Buffy' anyway, when you had a perfectly good name like Elizabeth? 'Buffy' was as bad as Catherine's friend, 'Elsie'. One changed her name to a toy poodle's and the other to a cow's. "This is a vamp bar. While its run by a pretty good guy, it's still a vamp bar. Sometimes other vampires hang out here. Those vampires are bad. That means no children allowed. Even children with fake I.D's."

The girl, Buffy, looked up at her with a slightly amused, tolerant look on her face. The kind you give your maiden aunt when they warn you about the dangers of men. The kind that really pissed Anita off. Just when Anita was about to grab Buffy by the arm and toss her ass out herself, she finished her soda, got up with a huge sigh, and walked out.

Thank god. Muttering to herself about pain-in-the-ass, short blondes and annoying, French vampires, Anita walked out, got into her car, and drove off. She didn't see the slender figure watching her from the doorway of a building just down from the bar.

Buffy studied Anita's car as she drove away. An ancient Chevy Nova. What a piece-of-shit, she thought. Who would have thought Anita Blake, executioner extraordinaire, would drive something so pitiful? Buffy had finally made the connection about the time Anita had started scolding her for being in a vamp bar. 'Anita' was Anita Blake. Little miss fourteen-vamp-kills herself. Buffy was happy that she had killed two-vamps-with-one-stake by checking Dead Dave's AND running into Anita Blake. Giles would be thrilled. Of course, now she had to sneak out tonight and follow Anita to a freak party. That was the part that was less fun. Giles had better cough up the cab fare. No way she was pulling a Lassie and chasing down Anita's car on foot. Although, Buffy could probably keep up with the piece-of-junk in her Jimmy Choo boots with the two-inch heels. Pleased with herself, she went to call Giles and give him an update.

Dusk found Buffy outside Guilty Pleasures. Dressed in a capri pants and a midriff-baring top, she felt reasonably cool in the humid air. She briefly toyed with the idea of heading inside, but quickly dismissed it. No time for distractions. Giles had come through with the fundage. So she would be riding-in-style as she tailed Anita.

Buffy spotted a figure, just down the street from her, leaning against a wall. It was a guy, wearing black leather pants, and a fishnet shirt. Cute, but what a fashion disaster. Leather, in this weather, equaled hot and sticky. Yuck. Buffy wondered if he was the 'Philip' that Anita had mentioned at the bar.

Buffy waited impatiently, feeling the hairs rise on her arms. Vampires were near. Their presence fouled her mood. Darkened it. Damn bloodsuckers. And she couldn't kill them. Bah, humbug. Sometimes she wished she lived in an alternate world. One where she could hunt and kill vampires without worrying about cops catching her or leaving corpses behind. Unfortunately, that was just a pipe dream. No such world existed.

Finally, Buffy saw Anita's car. Anita drove up and parked in the no-parking zone. And yes, leather-boy got in. Slipping into the backseat of the cab she had waiting, Buffy breezed, "Follow that car," to the grizzled cab-driver. She'd always wanted to say that, ever since late night movie-watching with Joyce. They had a host of channels to pick from, showing mostly crime dramas and action movies. And pretty much there was always a scene where the hero follows the bad guys in a cab. And here and today, Buffy was the hero. Ergo, cab.

The cabbie briefly stared at her in the rear-view mirror, shaking his head, before starting the cab and moving after the Nova. He didn't care where the blonde teen wanted to go so long as she paid him. The ride was not too long, somewhere out in suburbia. Paying the cabbie off with a big tip on top, Buffy scrambled out of the backseat. She could always call another cab when she needed a ride home.

Buffy moved through the dark toward the house. The house was big, multi-storied, and brick. The yard was unkempt, the grass far too high. She walked around the left side, until she found a window. Looking inside, Buffy spotted Anita and her boytoy, along with a rather varied crew. Brunette wearing a purple bra and matching panties with five-inch fuck-me pumps? Check. Busty, black girl wearing a black bra, a see-through lace skirt, and no panties? Check. Older guy wearing leather straps? Check. Plump, older blonde wearing a black negligee and molesting Philip? Check. Well, she definitely could see why this was called a freak party. Cause those were some seriously freaky people, wearing some seriously freaky clothes.

Shuddering, Buffy continued to watch. She noted the arrival of a blonde-haired man, who Anita seemed to know, based on the flabbergasted look she had for a moment, before quickly hiding it. Listening hard, Buffy was able to make out most of the conversations taking place inside. Almost everyone was talking about sex. Or vamps. Or sex with vamps. But she did manage to glean a few nuggets. She heard Philip apparently turn down some pushy, red-haired woman for sado-masochistic sex. Yuck. Buffy also heard Anita and Philip arguing in another room, about him biting her. And when Anita moved back into sight of her window, she had a huge bite right on her neck. Apparently, ole Philip was seriously into sado-masochistic sex. Double yuck.

Buffy watched Anita, who looked pissed off, head for the back door. Slipping around to the back of the house, Buffy waited just out of sight in the shadows. Damn, I hope she's not leaving already, Buffy thought. Anita walked out of the house, and started across the backyard, towards the cemetery they'd gone past on the way there. Uh oh. Buffy could feel vamps again. And hear some animal making a bleating noise, which abruptly ended with a gurgling sound. Probably signifying a cut throat. Moving silently through the night after the animator, Buffy got ready for trouble.

Coming to a hedge, Anita paused before spotting a gate, which she opened. Buffy winced at the shrill scream of the rusty metal. Anita then headed through. Buffy stopped in the shadows next to the gate and studied the scene before her. Six vamps, some random guy, and a worried-looking Anita. Buffy frowned. Something about the guy gave her the wiggins. A sense of... potential hung in the air. And a dead goat was laying on a grave. Sheesh, talk about your post-modern, graveyard chic.

Wrapping shadows around her to conceal her presence from the vamps, Buffy listened in to get the 411. Apparently the vamps were pissed at the wiggins guy, who was an animator like Anita, for not being able to raise their zombie. And were about to kill him. Well, we can't have that, Buffy thought to herself. At least the night's not a total waste if I get to kill some vamps, legal and all, she mused.

Buffy was just about to attack from the shadows, when Anita started bargaining for the wig boy's life. And succeeding, since the vamps backed off, at least temporarily. Dammit! There goes the slayage. Anita had a brief conversation about focuses and power-sharing with Zachary (wig boy had a name), before rubbing weird-smelling stuff on them both and cutting them. Buffy could feel some kind of power gather in the air, like static from a late afternoon thunderstorm, as Anita began chanting. The potential, sensed earlier, now had form. A minute or so later, a zombie kind of flowed up from the ground, looking all waxy and gruesome. Pretty cool, actually.

Buffy continued to listen to the goings-on, starting to get angry, as the vamps tormented the zombie. She had to focus hard on not leaking power and giving her presence away. In the meantime, two more vamps, one old and powerful, the other newly made (and badly dressed), had arrived and were arguing with Anita. After listening in, Buffy was able to put names to both vamps. The badly dressed one was Willy. The one looking like a twelve-year-old girl, was Nikolaos. The master of the city was standing right there. Buffy felt the need to kill her, like a physical ache deep inside. She was actually trembling, about to give herself away, when Philip ran by. That distracted her slayer part enough that Buffy was able to strengthen her shields again.

Again listening in, she heard Anita arguing with Nikolaos about the vamp feeding off of her. The idea didn't seem to be going over well with Anita. About then all hell broke loose back at the house. Cries of "Pervert!" rang in the air as well as screams and yells coming from the people inside. Well, well. It looked like someone didn't like freaks anymore than she did. Nikolaos let Anita and company and they took off. Buffy followed them, moving swiftly and silently through the dark. Once they all piled into Anita's car, Buffy let them go. She toyed with the idea of going back and killing all, or maybe just some, of the vampires in the graveyard, but ultimately decided not to. Giles would blow a gasket if she killed another master of the city. Especially when he was working so hard to do Nikolaos a favor, regardless of whether she knew about it or not.

Calling a cab to drive her home, Buffy silently resolved to go see Anita the next day at her office. Buffy wasn't sure what she would tell Anita, but she would figure out something.

It's the nights that trouble her the most. She feels them in the darkness, pressing against her, suffocating her. Their presence fouls the air. A psychic stench that never goes away. She wants to slip out into the welcoming blackness and hunt them. Kill them. End their existence. It was, after all, her purpose. Her reason for existing.

She stares out her window, looking out into the darkness. The window was like some fantastic maw, full of dark, writhing figures, hunting and feeding. The maw of the beast. Slow sparks of rage were fanned to life, fueled by their feeding. She feels them stealing lives. Taking. Destroying. Why not go out tonight? Decision made, she enters the maw. The night welcomes her, like the arms of an old lover, full of soft touches. Deep, aching passions. Promising satiation.

She strides down a side alley, instinctively avoiding the brightly lit thoroughfares. Darkness is where she'll find... him. The Stygian black is his home. Her home. She feels him now. His presence touches her, raising small hairs on the back of her neck. He's just around the corner. Waiting. A dark figure wearing a mask. The one who will bring her to life again.

As she rounds the corner, the figure stirs. He sees her. Legs and stomach bare, she strides forward. Bright, cotton candy girl. So sweet and delicious. So wonderfully alone. He slides through the darkness, a shark moving with the currents, hunting. Predator and prey, moving in a rhythm as timeless as life itself. As he nears, he can smell her. She smells of life. Rich and pulsing, just beneath the surface. He runs his tongue over dry lips, anticipating the sweet, coppery taste. The thick, lush consistency. Crimson and oh, so lovely. Ambrosia.

She watches him approach. Only feet separate them. He tries to catch her eyes, but slides off like drops of water on a griddle, as she stares shyly at his chest. Predator and prey, moving in a rhythm as timeless as life itself. He feels the lure. Young girl, so alone. So afraid. Hugging herself, as if it will keep him at bay. Keep the precious life within. Trembling in vain, for death approaches on swift wings.

He touches her. Caresses her cheek. Strokes her throat. Oh, how sweet you are. He feesl her tremble. Her fear is so delicious. Her fear alone almost gives sustenance. Satiety. Anticipation fills him as he raises her chin. Meeting her eyes. Expecting that lush, delectable terror that will so sweetly flavor his first sip. First a sip, then to drink deeply. So very deeply. Eyes meet his. Predator eyes prey. He lunges forward, fangs bared.

Even at the last, he never saw it. The first blade slides in so easily. Beneath the breastbone. Angled upwards, it enters the welcoming embrace of the heart. Its silvery color now carrying a crimson sheen. A gasp breaks the silence. The second blade slips into a blue eye. The gush of fluid is accompanied by a faint, popping sound. Breaking through its bony prison, the blade enters the soft, gray depths. A slight twist stirs those depths. Scrambles them.

She watches as the light dims in his remaining eye. Easing him to the ground, she cradles him as his presence fades. Predator and prey, moving in a rhythm as timeless as life itself. He fades, until only clay remains. Retrieving her blades, she gazes upon her masterpiece. It lacks...something. Decision made, she moves swiftly. Slices through the column of his neck. Slices until his head and body party company. Never to meet again.

Abandoning her blades, her hand slides beneath his shirt, stroking up his chest. Finding the wound, she penetrates it. Driving and thrusting, her hand enters him. Searching. Seconds later, she's finds it. Cradling his heart within her hand, she slowly pulls it from his chest. A tremor races through her body. A sigh trembles on her lips.

Rising to her feet, she studies her masterpiece again. Headless. Heartless. Complete. She tosses aside the gory lump of flesh. Shaking her hand, she smiles at the crimson droplets. The night caresses her flesh. An old lover welcoming her. Deep, abiding passion. Sated, she turns for home. She will sleep well tonight. Those wonderful, vermilion dreams.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Bam! Bam! Bam!

With a groan, Buffy pulled a pillow over her head. Not again. And she'd been having the best dream. Brad Pitt had been soooo into her. Peeled grapes, slave boys with big feathery fans, and her and Brad.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

"All right! I'm coming!" Grumbling, Buffy rolled out of bed. She glanced at the clock. 7:10 am. Grabbing a robe, she tossed it on before heading down the stairs. Checking the peephole, she saw a certain British guy who definitely knew better than to bother her this early, especially after the last time.

"Okay, Giles, what's the sitch? Cause I'm guessing you must have a really good reason for interrupting Buffy's beauty sleep. And you know what they say, a tired slayer is a cranky slayer." After rattling this off, Buffy took a close look at her watcher. Uh oh, he looked pissed. She guessed it had something to do with the paper he clutched in one hand.

"Buffy, when you called me yesterday to tell me about Dead Dave's, meeting Anita Blake, and seeing Nikolaos, did you forget to tell me something? Like, perhaps, killing this vampire?" He glared as he tossed the paper to her. Rupert Giles was extremely unhappy with his slayer. She had failed to tell him about killing this vampire, which in one sense was a betrayal of trust. Additionally, she had to know it would only increase the stress in the vampire community. "Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Sheesh Giles, you can't give me the benefit of the doubt? I mean, I'm not the only thing out there killing vampires these days." Rupert felt a flood of relief through his body. Buffy hadn't done it. Thank God. Unfortunately, Buffy had to destroy his sense of relief by continuing. "It's like when the gym burnt down. Everybody was all, blame Buffy. But it could have been something else. The fire inspector said it could have been mice."

"Mice?" He asked, beginning to be confused.

"Mice while smoking?" Looking at the hopeful look on her face, he decided to stop this charade immediately. He had to make her understand the severity of her actions.

"Buffy."

"Yeah, they didn't buy it either." Buffy muttered, looking down.

"You are close to being an adult. You must stop doing silly, childish things. And I know it must sound strange, my describing what you did last night as childish, since you did slay a vampire, but it was."

"Giles, that vamp totally had it coming. It was a child molester. God, every time I've thought vampires couldn't get any worse, something like this happens. If you're trying to make me feel bad about killing it, you're gonna have to do better than that. Besides, I need to slay something, use my abilities. Otherwise, they might wither. There would be withering. Taking out that walking nightmare was a good thing. So I'm going with win-win on the whole sitch." Buffy studied Giles's face as she gave him her explanation. From the look in his eyes, he sympathized, but still believed that she shouldn't have done what was necessary. With a sigh, she resigned herself to being lectured. Buffy took a quick glance at the paper he'd given her. Wow. Okay, maybe she could see his point a little. The headline read, "Vampire Murdered in the Blood District!" Underneath the headline, the subtitle read, "Latest in a String of Vampire Murders Baffle Police.". This might not be good.

Rupert, seeing Buffy's deer-in-the-headlight look upon actually reading the headline, tried to think of a way to phrase what he had to say to her diplomatically. Shaking his head, he gave up and said, "Not only did you make the situation worse by raising tensions even higher by killing a vampire close to Nikolaos. You also put yourself in jeopardy with an illegal kill. If you were imprisoned, it would be a disaster. We would not be able to keep you safe in jail. _You_ would be the target of Nikolaos's wrath. I want your promise that you will not do something like this again."

"That kill was legal. Like totally. The vamp, Valentine, had a court order of execution issued a long time ago. So killing him was like a public service. Buffy Summers, public servant, at your service. See, it was a good thing." Buffy made her point, deliberately ignoring the whole 'tension-raising' thing.

"And you have an answer to increased tensions? To angry, possibly irrational master vampires?" As Buffy started to reply, Giles cut her off. "No, I really don't want to hear your answer. Buffy, I understand the drives you have as a slayer. At least as well as someone who is not the slayer can. The Council has well documented information on this subject. What I need you to do is to be able to control yourself. You are the slayer. The consequences of Nikolaos finding out about your presence would be potentially disastrous."

"Potentially disastrous? Sheesh, Giles, lighten up. If old St. Nick finds out about me, I can always take care of her the old-fashioned way. You know, back when they actually staked vampires who got uppity. Besides, I've always wanted to kill a thousand plus year old walking corpse. I mean, is head and heart enough for something that old? Or do you have to burn the body too?" Through sheer will, Buffy managed to keep herself from rolling her eyes. Even if the master of the city found out about her, what's the worst that could happen?

"Actually, Buffy, if Nikolaos finds out about you, she would most likely contact the vampire council. Do I have to remind you of what happened to your predecessor? She spent thirty years as a 'guest' of the vampire council. Until she killed herself, calling you. The council deals with the slayers it finds, one of two ways. Either by killing them or by imprisoning them. I don't want either of these things to happen to you." Rupert hoped he was getting through to her. He truly believed that Buffy had the potential to be a great slayer. She'd already accomplished more than the previous ten slayers, seven of whom had been 'guests' of the council, with the remaining three murdered within weeks of being called. But first, Buffy had to learn to think before reacting. "Also, they would hunt down and kill your family. Neither your mother or father would be safe."

"That's dirty pool Giles. Bringing mom into this. Okay, I'll be good. No more unauthorized slaying. It's just, why can't all vamps be like Lothos? It's so much easier when they have the whole Manson vibe going on." Sighing, Buffy resolved to be good. Or at least more careful.

"Good. I won't continue to belabor the point. Now, to move on, you planned to speak to Anita Blake today, correct? How do you plan to approach her?"

"I'm going to her office later in the afternoon. Since she's apparently hard to reach, I'm going to play the family card. Anita will have to see her dear cousin, Buffy. I figure she'll be curious enough to talk to me. If she stonewalls me, I'll bring up dear, old Valentine. That should open her up. I'm sure she wasn't exactly happy to find out he was still alive and still carrying a big ole case of hatred for her. Which means she'll be totally glad he's worm-food. Whatcha think?" Buffy had killed the vampire partially as an in with Anita Blake. Okay, like five percent Anita Blake, and ninety-five percent cause his mere existence pissed her off. Still, it should work.

"She won't be at work today. It's her day off." Giles merely shrugged at Buffy's raised eyebrows, before finally clarifying. "We try to keep tabs on the main players in town. That doesn't just mean the vampires. We also track the most powerful of the magically inclined humans. Of which Anita Blake is one. A powerful animator. So you'll need to rethink your approach."

"Okay, if you keep tabs on her, then you have her address. Right? So the only thing that changes is that I confront her at her apartment instead of her office. And I don't have to play the cous-card, because I don't have to worry about getting past her receptionist. So, do we have a plan or what?" Buffy was happy either way. Both plans allowed her to irritate the annoying Anita Blake. What could go wrong?

"It's a bit direct, but give it a try. Everything I've heard of Miss Blake indicates that she is extremely direct as well. But no letting her know you're the slayer. Bring up HAV if you have to. If we're forced to maintain ties to those lunatics, we might as well take advantage of them." Giles wasn't sure about the approach, but figured he would give Buffy enough room to try. Maybe it would work. As long as she didn't tell Miss Blake about being the slayer.

-BtVS-ABVS-BtVS-ABVS-BtVS-

Buffy walked from the bus stop towards Anita Blake's apartment building. Her right shoe made a sticky noise. Squick. Sticking to the sidewalk with every step. Gum from the bus. She'd had to ride the bus. Giles had to get her a car to go with her shiny new license. The slayer couldn't be riding the bus. It didn't exactly strike fear in the hearts of vampires everywhere. Besides, it was gross. Sighing, Buffy scraped the bottom of her shoe on the curb, trying to get the gum off.

Giving up, Buffy continued her walk. Squick. Ah, there it was. Now let's see, which apartment is yours, Anita? Aha, this one. Checking the time, 9:15 am, Buffy grinned. Perfect. If she couldn't sleep in, then no one gets to sleep in. She wanted to do a Mr. Burns type hand gesture, but decided it was too much of a guy thing to do. Raising her hand, she knocked firmly on the door. Being the slayer, Buffy's firm knock nearly broke the door. Pausing, she waited for someone to answer.

Anita spit out toothpaste, rinsing her mouth quickly. She was having a shitty morning. First, she'd forgotten to reset her alarm, getting almost no sleep. Then before she could get to sleep, she'd gotten a call from Dolph, indicating there'd been TWO more vampire murders. Now someone was banging on her door. Loudly. And all this before she'd gotten her morning cup of coffee. Life truly sucked. She only hoped it wasn't Edward, coming for the name. If it was, one of them might be dying in the next minute or two. Doing one final check of her outfit, black jeans, red polo, and black Nikes, with her shoulder holster holding her Browning, along with two extra clips. Anita tossed a yellow windbreaker over one arm in case she need to cover the gun.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

Okay, so probably not Edward, since he was never this impatient. Anita headed towards the door. Waiting a second, she quickly checked the peephole. A small blonde girl stood on the other side. One that looked familiar. Where had she seen her before? Anita debated throwing her windbreaker on, but decided she didn't care if she scared someone who was selling door-to-door this early. Throwing open the door, she confronted her visitor.

Buffy banged on the door again. She could hear someone moving around inside the apartment. Whoever it was, they weren't in any hurry to answer the door. She fidgeted a moment, debating hitting the door again, a bit harder, assuming it could take it, when said door opened.

"Hi Anita, remember me? Just in case you don't, I'm Buffy." Buffy breezed by Anita Blake, taking advantage of both their sizes, to walk into her apartment, looking around with interest. Wow, Anita liked white. Couches, rugs, etc. And there were penguins. A lot of penguins. While they weren't Mr. Gordo, they were kinda cute. Buffy suddenly realized that in her intense curiosity to see the apartment, she'd missed part of something Anita had said. Replaying the scene in her mind, Buffy got it.

"How did you know where I live? How dare you come in. I'm on my way out on official police business. Oh, I remember you now. The girl from Dead Dave's. Now, I really want to know how you knew where I live." Anita found her hand dangerously close to the butt of the Browning. She decided that pulling a gun on the girl was probably a bit much, even if 'Buffy' was essentially ignoring her, while taking in the room.

"You weren't really that hard to track down. You getting famous. Or infamous. Although, really, what's the diff?" Buffy knew she was being annoying, but wasn't really trying to fight it.

Anita counted to five slowly in her head. Finishing, she said, "I want to know why you're here. Now."

Buffy decided to drop the fun and games. While she wasn't worried about getting shot, she figured if she had to take Anita's gun away, it would only complicate things. "I'm here to help you, Anita."

"And how will having Barbie here help me?" Anita shot back.

"Okay, less with the sarcasty, and more with the heary. And, yes, I'm here to help you. With a lot of things. But first, I heard you say you're going somewhere on police business. Is that right?"

"Yes, but I can't talk to you about that."

"Even if it means I have an explanation of how the vamp died?"

Anita studied the face of the teen in front of her. Buffy's face held an oddly knowing look. Either she was great at bullshitting, or she really did know something. "Okay, you say a vampire died. What happened?"

"Oh, Anita! You're no fun! You're supposed to ask, 'Buffy, did you kill the vampire I got a call on this morning?'"

Anita decided Buffy did know something. She dropped the kid gloves. "Which one?"

"Which which one?"

"Which one did you kill?"

"More than one vampire died?" Interesting. Buffy hadn't known about another death. That was definitely going to piss off the master even more. Two in one night. Of course, Giles was going to be more upset about it. Buffy swore he'd made an almost clucking noise this morning as he cleaned his glasses.

"Yes, there were two murders this morning. So, which one did you murder?" Anita didn't for a second believe that Buffy had killed anyone. But she might actually know something.

"Oh, I didn't murder anyone. First, you can't murder a vampire. They're already dead. Second, the vampire I'm talking about, you're already familiar with. You know. Wears a mask. Has some messy holy water scars. Likes to molest young boys. Almost killed you a while back."

At that moment, Anita realized that Buffy wasn't joking. She knew. The level look Buffy sent her, told Anita, she wasn't joking. Or bluffing. "How did you know about Valentine?"

"You told me about him. But I'd already dreamed about him. I'd seen that nasty smile, those cruel eyes. I'd felt his darkness. So when you basically told me about him, I decided to do you a favor."

"I told you about Valentine? The first time I've ever seen you is yesterday. And I told you to get the hell out of Dead Dave's." Anita started having a bad feeling that she knew what was coming. What Buffy was about to say next.

"Yes, it was yesterday. And really, it was both of you. You and Luthor." Buffy was smiling. She knew it bothered the other woman, but really didn't care. Anita was about to get yet another shock.

"You heard us? You couldn't have heard us... Are you a were, Buffy?"

"A were-Buffy? Nope, just plain old Buffy here. But seriously, I did hear what you both said. And I decided to help you. I was being of the help. And I figured that when you realized just how helpful I could be, you'd let me help with the real project." The explanation was going perfectly. Anita was looking pole-axed, but then maybe that was just her natural look. Everything so far had made perfect sense to Buffy.

"What 'real project'? What are you talking about? If you actually heard our conversation, then you know that the only project I'm working on is solving the vampire murders. There is no other project." Anita was definitely beginning to wonder about Buffy. Hearing a whispered conversation in a bar from several feet away. Showing not the slightest fear or intimidation over Anita carrying. Discussing things that even if she'd heard the bar conversation, she shouldn't know. Just who, or what, the hell was this girl?

"I also heard you in the cemetery. And I must say, it definitely showed good taste to refuse to let old St. Nick munch on you."

St. Nick? Nikolaos? Buffy could only be talking about the Master of the City. Could Buffy have followed her to the freak party and the events afterwards?

"But you know, Anita, that even if you solve the murders, she's not just gonna let you go. I finally figured out what felt so off about you. You bear the first marks of a human servant." Buffy had finally gotten a handle around it. She'd only ever encountered one other human servant, and that one had belonged to Lothos. She never knew what happened to Gregori, figuring he'd probably died when she'd killed Lothos, dragged down by the marks between them. One thing the Watchers were good for, besides food and clothes, was information. Anything you wanted to know about the weird, arcane crap that was vampires, they probably knew it. Or knew where to find it. It definitely made the job easier. And Buffy was all about the easy. Most of the time. "And since Nicky didn't know about the marks, they can't have been hers. So some other vampire's marked you. And she's not going to be happy about that. I figured that basically, she's going to kill you."

Human servant? Marks? Just how did a teenage girl know so much about vampires and the preternatural? Anita was feeling shell-shocked. But she would not give Buffy the satisfaction of knowing it. "I'm not a human servant. I've killed those before."

"No, you've killed slaves. Renfields, I think they're called. Two-biters who are under the sway of vampire. I'm talking about the true human servant of a master vampire. Nasty buggers who increase the power of the master, act as his daylight eyes and ears, and, in return, get to live forever. And did I say, 'bugger'? I'm spending waaayy to much time with the British. Gotta stop doing that. It's way too wiggy." Buffy definitely had to watch the British slang. She didn't want to start wearing tweed or drinking tea. That way lay madness. And scones.

Wiggy? Bugger? Buffy's rapid-fire delivery was confusing at best. But, Anita thought she'd gotten the jist of the conversation. "So you think Jean-Claude's marked me as his human servant? And that Nikolaos is going to kill us both for it?" Oh my god, Anita thought, remembering glowing blue eyes. Jean-Claude had already said he shared his life essence with her to save her life. That must have been the first mark. Then the eyes in the stairway must have been the second. "How may marks are there?"

"Four, I think. The last one you have to drink their blood. Ugh. So not going there. Now, getting back to the 'real project'. The way I figure it, you solve the vampire murders. Or not. Either way, I so don't care. But regardless, we do jolly St. Nick and her little band of elves. Or is that dwarves? Doesn't matter. Either way, I've even gotten us a head start by taking care of Valentine. That way, whether or not the vampire murders get solved, you stay alive, I stay alive, and there's one less vampire and her minions walking around. And afterwards, we party. What do you say?" Now that Buffy had revealed her plan in all its glory, she waited for a reaction.

"Attack Nikolaos? Attack a thousand-plus year old master vampire? One so powerful, she makes my bones ache when I'm around her. Are you insane? And if I did think attacking her was the right way to do this, do you think that I'd take along a teenage girl with me as backup?" Anita was furious with herself. Furious for listening to Buffy as long as she did, furious for allowing herself to get into the situation in the first place, and furious for not watching the door. She slowly turned and looked at the figure lounging insouciantly there, icy blue eyes studying her. How much had he heard? It didn't take long to find out.

"Well Anita, it sounds as if you've had an interesting conversation. It also sounds as if you're ready to answer my question. So, what can you tell me about the resting place of jolly St. Nick?" Edward's eyes grew colder, like skies just before an artic blizzard.

Anita looked from Buffy's face to Edward's. One starting to reflect boredom, the other reflecting the willingness to do whatever was necessary to finish the job. Including kill her. What the hell was she going to do?


End file.
